


Still Beating

by butterflyslinky



Series: The House of Wayne-El [10]
Category: DCU
Genre: Attempted Sexual Blackmail, Depression, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mpreg, Past Relationship(s), Ra's is creepy again, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: Putting the pieces together isn't easy, but sometimes, miracles do happen.





	Still Beating

Conner wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the hayloft. It had been a few days, judging by the changing light, but he slept through most of it. It was better than being awake--his muscles still burned if he moved too much, the pain from whatever Luthor had done to him barely ceasing for a moment.

Clark would come up occasionally, bringing food, most of which went untouched. A few times, Clark tried to talk to him, but Conner didn’t answer, only curled himself further into the next of hay and blankets he had slowly built. No one else came up--Conner had heard Clark tell Martha and Jon not to bother him that first night.

They had listened, for the most part, though Martha did come up now and then to get something. She did occasionally ruffle Conner’s hair as she passed, but otherwise let him be. Conner wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or cry.

It wasn’t until the sun had risen and set a dozen times that anyone else came in.

Kara didn’t knock, just flew up and sat down next to Conner, the baby in her arms. Conner glanced at her but didn’t speak.

“It’s quiet up here,” Kara explained. “Terry gets overstimulated easily...easier to nurse him here.” She unbuttoned her top and put Terry to her breast. He quieted as he latched on.

Conner grunted.

She looked at him for a long moment. “Sorry if we’re invading.”

“It’s fine,” Conner muttered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

She nodded.

“Did Papa tell you what happened?” Conner asked.

“The basics,” Kara said. “He said that you want to be alone.”

“He’s right.”

“I don’t think so...isolating yourself up here isn’t going to fix it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t.”

“So don’t make me.”

Kara sighed. “You can’t just hide up here forever...you’re still Superboy. You still have a job to do.”

“Am I?” Conner asked, and she didn’t know how to answer.

*

The next person who tried was Jon, who came crawling up one afternoon. The weather was starting to get uncomfortably hot, so Conner knew it had been a few weeks since he had come back to Smallville. In spite of the heat, though, Jon wriggled his way into Conner’s nest and curled  up around him.

“Jon, it’s too hot,” Conner muttered.

“Missed you,” Jon muttered. “And you’re sad. Papa said people need hugs when they’re sad.”

“Papa also told you not to bother me.”

Jon’s lip started trembling and Conner immediately felt bad. That was just the effect Jon had on people.

“Not that you’re a bother,” Conner added hastily. “I just have a lot to think about.”

“Papa says it’s better to talk about what you need to think about,” Jon said. “Though Daddy didn’t ever listen.”

“Yeah, well,” Conner said. “Your daddy was…” He stopped--he couldn’t say anything bad about Bruce to Jon, even now.

Jon was quiet for a moment. “I forgot he wasn’t your daddy,” he said. “He always said he was.”

Conner sighed. “It was the best way to protect everyone,” he said. “I just wish he could have acted like it instead of just saying it.”

“Papa isn’t Damian’s bearer, but he acts like he is.”

“Papa is...well...Bruce was complicated,” Conner said carefully. “I don’t think it’s that he wasn’t my father...it’s that Papa got hurt. That made him angry.”

Jon cuddled closer. “I don’t care,” he said. “You’re still my big brother, and you’re good, and I want to be just like you.”

“Really?” Conner said. “I’d rather you just be you.”

“But can I still be Superboy?” Jon asked.

“Well,” Conner said. “I don’t think I can be Superboy anymore...but you still have a few more years before you’re allowed to go out.”

Jon pouted, but didn’t say anything more.

*

It was a few days after Jon’s visit that the front window opened again. Conner didn’t even look up until he heard a cough next to him and he rolled over.

Cassie was standing there, hands on her hips. Bart was just behind her, looking nervous.

Conner swallowed. He hadn’t seen Cassie in over a year, had just left her high and dry without a word. “Um...hi,” he said.

“Conner Kent-Wayne, I don’t know whether I want to beat you up or hug you,” Cassie snapped.

Conner flinched a bit. “Just Kent now,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

“Just Kent. Bruce wasn’t my father, and I won’t keep pretending he was.”

Bart crept forward a little. “Dick told us what happened,” he said. “Or some of it...so it’s all true?”

Conner nodded and sat up. “It was...I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Bart was at his side in an instant, hugging him. Cassie just stared, her face twisted.

“You were gone for almost a year,” she said. “Just up and left without a word...never called, never even indicated…” There were tears on her face now. “I was afraid you were dead,” she whispered. “I thought you must be...that you wouldn’t just disappear on me that way unless you were...and now I find that you’re alive, and I can’t even be mad at you.”

“I’m sorry,” Conner whispered again. “I...I know I fucked up...I shouldn’t have listened to Luthor...shouldn’t have let him…” He looked up at her, also crying. “I never should have left you. And if you want me to just...vanish out of your life again…”

“I don’t want that,” she said. “We...Dick had us go to Cadmus, after you’d left...he wanted us to get everything Luthor had found out so that we could take countermeasures...I saw his files. I know what he did to you...how could I leave you knowing that?”

“Don’t you dare pity me,” Conner said. “What happened was my own damn fault.”

“You didn’t ask him to pump you full of poison,” Bart said quietly. “You didn’t ask him to make it so he could hurt you whenever he wanted.”

Conner blinked. “What?”

“Didn’t you know?” Bart asked.

“I...didn’t ask,” Conner said.

Cassie and Bart exchanged a look. “Luthor was experimenting with kryptonite,” Cassie finally said. “Trying to make something that would...immunize you to it...something that would completely suppress your human side so you’d be as powerful as Superman...if not moreso. Apparently the immunization had mixed results, but the other enhancements worked...but he couldn’t safely remove the kryptonite so it’s probably still there...from what I could tell from the files, he would randomly increase the dosage when he felt you were getting too mouthy.”

Conner stared at her for a long time. “So...he…”

“It was never enough to kill you,” Bart said. “But it was enough to keep you in pain...and...well, Oracle’s studying the files back at the cave, but she didn’t seem optimistic...we’d need Tim to really figure out how to remove it.”

“And the last time I saw Tim, he and Damian were chasing Ra’s al-Ghul,” Conner muttered. He was shaking now. “So...this...it’s not going away, is it?”

“No,” Cassie said. “At least...not in any of our lifetimes.” She went to Conner’s side and hugged him just as Bart was. “I’m so sorry...unless someone discovers a cure…”

“I guess...I’ll just have to learn to live with it,” Conner said. “If it doesn’t kill me first.”

“From what we could tell, the immunization means it won’t,” Bart said. “But...it’s just going to be a lot of pain.”

“It already is,” Conner said. “Some days are just better than others.” He swallowed heavily. “I...I should probably go give Superman my resignation.”

“Don’t say that,” Cassie said. “I mean...yeah, it sucks, but Tim could still come through for us. Or...or you’ll find a way to help anyway, Oracle did. Your life isn’t over just because someone hurt you.”

“It’s not only that,” Conner said. “I believed all of Luthor’s bullshit...I let him use me that way without question. I almost killed him. I’m not quitting because of the pain...I’m quitting because I don’t deserve to be Superboy.”

“So you’ll find a new identity,” Bart said. “I mean...you’re getting too old to be called a boy anyway. Maybe...maybe you can be someone else now.”

“Yeah,” Conner said. “Maybe.” He glanced between them. “So…are you two…?”

Bart and Cassie exchange another look. “It’s…” Cassie began. “Nothing’s going on,” she finally said.

“I can go,” Bart said. “I know that…”

“No,” Conner said. He leaned back on Cassie and pulled Bart to his chest. “I want you both here…I need…I don’t know, but…I want you both to stay.”

They both nodded. “Of course,” Cassie said. She kissed the top of Conner’s head and they all curled together in the hay.

*

Cassie and Bart were in and out over the next few days, but Conner knew he could rely on them to come back at night at least.

Clark came up a few days later and shook his head at the three teenagers curled up in their nest.

“Y’all oughtta come down t’the house fer dinner,” he said. “Ma’s eager t’meet yer...friends.”

Cassie and Bart glanced at Conner. “Are you ready?” Cassie asked quietly.

Conner took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “I think...I think we can go down now.”

Conner had managed to tune out most of the noise from the house, using the creaks of the barn and the rustle of the animals to form a sort of white noise around him. Going inside, it was louder than he had heard in a long time. Conner flinched at the activity as he stepped inside.

Cassie took his hand. “Okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “Just...give me a moment.” It took a few deep breaths before Conner nodded and crept into the kitchen.

Martha embraced him at once. “Feelin’ better?” she asked.

“A little,” Conner mumbled. “Grandma, this is Cassie and Bart.”

“Nice t’have you,” Martha said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kent,” Bart said. “Uh...sorry for taking your hayloft.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Y’ain’t takin’ up too much space.”

“Which is amazing with Bart,” Cassie said, her voice teasing.

And if the laughter in the room was a little brittle, well, it was still something.

It was so strange, to be in a small, warm kitchen, surrounded by people. Conner almost felt...well, not happy, but safe at least. For the first time in a year, he could ignore the pulse of pain under his skin and be present in the moment.

After supper, though, Martha looked at him. “Y’gonna sleep in a barn all winter, or y’gonna come inside?”

Conner swallowed. “Um...if you don’t mind three of us…” He blushed.

Clark looked like he was going to choke, but Martha only raised her eyebrows. “Long as yer happy,” she said.

“We’ll behave,” Cassie promised. “At least, we promise not to break any of your furniture.”

Jon looked up, confused. “Why would you be breaking furniture?”

Clark actually did choke, and Bart squirmed a bit, but the women only laughed. Conner half-smiled and finally, finally allowed himself to relax.

*

The newfound peace shattered not quite a month later when Cassie came home in a whirlwind.

“We have a crisis,” Cassie said without preamble.

Clark pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What kind of crisis?”

“The dead rising from the grave,” Cassie said. “Something about Black Lanterns and bringing death to the entire universe...anyway, the Lanterns are asking for help from all sides and Diana sent me to get you.” She glanced at Conner. “Both of you, if possible.

Conner met his father’s eye for a moment before he shook his head. “I can’t,” Conner said.

Cassie nodded. “I thought not...Clark?”

Clark was quiet for a long minute. “Conner, can you take Jon and Terry back to Gotham? You don’t need to stay, but I’d feel better with them back in the cave with Barbara and Alfred than out here where there are no defenses.”

“Yeah,” Conner said. “Then I’ll come back and keep Smallville under control.”

No one mentioned that Smallville didn’t need protecting, for which Conner was eternally grateful.

“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Clark promised Cassie. “Have you alerted Batman?”

“He’s setting up the patrol schedule in Gotham,” Cassie said. “He’ll be joining us tomorrow.”

“Good.” Clark nodded and headed inside, Conner following in his wake.

*

The Batcave was so…empty. Conner faltered a bit as he stepped inside.

Dick was waiting, his cowl off. “I hear you’re not coming with us,” he said.

Conner shook his head. “I’m not…I can’t be Superboy again,” he said. He walked past Dick to Alfred, also waiting, and handed him the baby.

Jon was very quiet, almost clingy, but he did let go when Conner did.

“Will you be staying, Master Conner?” Alfred aske.

“No,” Conner said. “I…”

“Understood.” Alfred took the children and discretely left the room.

When Conner turned back around, Dick was standing in front of him, holding a bundle of cloth. “I…” Dick paused for a moment. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he said. “But I know what running away from here is like.”

Conner pressed his lips together. “You knew.”

“Not at first,” Dick said. “Clark only told me after they split up…that’s why I left Gotham to begin with.”

“You never told me.”

“I wanted to,” Dick said. “But it wasn’t my place.”

“I just…” Conner forced back the tears. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Dick held out the cloth. “I thought that might be the case,” he said. “So…I have a suggestion.”

Conner took the offered bundle and unrolled it. It was the Nightwing suit, only larger, made for Conner’s bulkier frame. The bird on the front and the stripes on the sides were red instead of blue, and they weren’t placed in the exact same way as Dick’s old costume. Nightwing, but Nightwing made for Conner instead of Dick. Not a replacement, but a legacy.

Conner looked up and hugged his brother. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Dick leaned up a bit to press a kiss to Conner’s forehead. “Wear it well, baby brother,” he said. “Wear it well, and protect our people.”

*

Tim’s head was always full of lists.

Lists of plans for taking down villains. Lists of cases he was working on. Lists of escapes and safehouses and hiding places throughout Gotham. Lists of ideas for school and the company and his team.

And a list of all the bad ideas he had ever had in his life.

Right now, the top item on that list was taking Damian with him to chase Ra’s al Ghul.

“Where are we going?” Damian whined. They had been in the desert for several days now, wandering somewhat aimlessly.

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” Tim growled. “You know Ra’s better than I do.”

Damian tsked at him. “I would not say I know him simply because I lived under his roof for eight years,” he snapped. “For one thing, I was not born with alien powers that give me a superior memory.”

“He’s your grandfather.”

“You have been working for him for the last year.”

“I’ve been using him to my own ends.”

Damian tsked again. “You cannot use him. He just allowed you to think that is what you were doing.”

“I’m close, Dami, I know it. If I can just get the last few pieces of evidence…”

“Father is dead, Timothy. And even if he is alive, he will come back when it suits him. Chasing riddles across the world is not going to bring him home sooner.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Tim snapped. “Go back to Gotham and get the mother of all lectures from Papa? Spend the next several years benched while he tries to find a therapist who can deal with us?”

“Grayson is already chasing us.”

“So is Cass. Even if they find us, I’ll hear them coming.”

They fell silent for a long while, walking through the vast emptiness.

“Do you need a lift?” Tim asked after a while.

“No,” Damian said.

“A rest?”

“No.”

“Water?”

“I am fine, Timothy.”

Tim sighed. “Look, Damian, I’m already going to be in enough trouble for bringing you along. I don’t need you dying on me as well.”

“I was born to this desert. I will survive it.”

“You really think you can stave off dehydration forever?”

“You really think you can chase a ghost forever?”

Tim sighed, but didn’t object any further.

An hour later, he spoke again. “Did you hear from Spoiler last time you were in Gotham?”

“I have better things to do than speak to your girlfriend.”

“Dami.”

“Yes, I heard from her. She is keeping your pathetic excuse for a team together in your absence.” Damian raised an eyebrow. “Do your supersenses not pick up on her?”

Tim blushed. “I...don’t want to listen in without her consent.”

“She will not wait for you forever.”

“I have faith in her.”

Damian tsked but didn’t say more. Tim was grateful—he wasn’t sure what his family would think of their hasty decision, but he wasn’t planning to find out.

“Sun’s going down,” Tim said another hour later. “We’d better stop for the night.”

Damian tsked but didn’t object as they found a large rock to shelter behind. Tim wrapped his cape around Damian and pulled him into a close embrace, trusting his higher Kryptonian body heat to keep his brother safely warm.

“Damian?” Tim asked as they were drifting off.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you come?”

Damian tsked. “You did not give me much option.”

“You didn’t have to jump on my back.”

“And you did not have to chase my grandfather this far.”

Tim half-smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Go to sleep, Timothy.”

Tim curled closer around Damian and both soon slept.

*

Supersenses could be both a blessing and a curse.

On the one hand, they let Tim know exactly what was coming and when.

On the other hand, they also meant that Tim rarely got a decent night’s sleep.

Here in the desert, it was usually better, the only nearby sound that of Damian’s soft breathing. So when Tim heard something else, he was awake at once, leaping to his feet with his bo staff in hand to face the three shadows that approached them.

“Easy, it’s just us.” Pru sounded amused and Tim relaxed at once.

“Fuck, Pru, don’t scare me like that.” Tim put down his staff and looked down. Damian had woken up and was coiled to fight.

Pru grinned. “You let your guard down.”

“Not at all,” Tim said. “I woke up before you killed me, didn’t I?”

“Only because we didn’t want to kill you,” Owens said. He plopped down in the dust next to their rock. “Nice campsite.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “How did you find us, anyway?”

“Oh, we just followed the sound of brooding and delusions,” Z said, sitting down next to Owens. “Also, you aren’t that good at covering your tracks...at least, not when Ra’s wants you found.”

Damian was glaring. “Who are these clowns?” he demanded, voice dripping with disgust.

Tim sighed. “Robin, my...associates, Pru, Z and Owens. Associates, this is Robin.”

“You brought a damn kid with you?” Pru said.

Damian tsked. “I could kill you where you stand.”

Pru grinned. “He’s adorable,” she declared. “Can we keep him?”

“No,” Tim said. “I actually brought him on accident.”

Damian glared more. “You did not bring me anywhere,” he snapped. “I chose to accompany you.”

The assassins all laughed and Damian bristled. “He speaks like a prince,” Z observed.

“And looks like one as well,” Owens added.

Damian and Tim exchanged a glance. “You will not speak of this,” Tim said. “You may tell Ra’s what you like about me, but you will not mention Robin to him, at all. Do you understand?”

They stopped laughing and stared. “You know we can’t just...not tell him,” Owens said.

“Then you know I won’t hesitate,” Tim said.

“...okay then,” Pru said. “We won’t.”

Tim nodded. “Good. Now sleep; we move at first light.”

They nodded and settled in for the night. Tim pulled Damian back into his protective hold but did not sleep; instead, he watched his team, both glad they had come and full of fear. If they had found him this quickly, it meant that Ra’s couldn’t be far behind, and Tim didn’t like to think what Ra’s would do after their last fight.

*

They set off again the next morning. Tim tried not to set too punishing a pace, but he knew that what he was looking for was nearby. Damian trotted next to him without complaint, and his teammates were already used to his moods so they didn’t object.

They reached the cave Tim was looking for by nightfall. He glanced at his companions. “Keep watch,” he ordered. “We won’t be long.” He nodded to Damian and led him inside.

“What are we looking for?” Damian whispered as they moved into the cave.

“When I was in Paris last, I heard a rumor,” Tim said. “It wasn’t much, but it was enough...I think there’s evidence here that Dad is alive.”

“Father…”

“I know he’s alive...stuck in the past, somewhere.” Tim was scanning the walls, depending on his super vision to show him what he needed. “There!” He pulled out a light and held it up.

On the wall of the cave, faded from time but still distinct, was a carving of a bat. No, not just a bat.

The sign of the Batman.

Damian stared, mouth open in shock. “How…?”

“I told you.” Tim quickly took a picture. “He’s alive.”

“We need to show Kent,” Damian said. “He can get the Justice League, bring Father home…”

“I’m going to,” Tim said. “This isn’t the only thing...I’ve got more, lots more...Papa just didn’t want to hear it.”

Damian tsked. “He is weak if he would give up so quickly.”

“He’s grieving,” Tim said. “And trying to take care of Jon and Terry and now Conner...I don’t blame him.”

Damian stared at the carving for a long moment before he reached out and brushed his fingers over it. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Tim smiled a bit, but before he could say more, a shout from outside caught his attention. He turned, dashing back up the passage, Damian just behind him.

Pru, Z and Owens were fighting, several opponents attacking them. Tim recognized their symbol as that of the Council of Spiders and he leapt into the fray immediately, staff out before he could think. He heard Damian draw his sword behind him, but he couldn’t look back, couldn’t pause for a second, determined to keep their attackers away from his friends.

He had three down when he heard Damian cry out. Tim turned to see one of the Spiders thrusting his sword deep into Damian’s torso. Damian’s eyes went wide, his small body lifted off the ground. Tim was frozen, staring in horror as the Spider pulled his sword out, dropping Damian to the ground, where he lay still.

Tim didn’t have time to think, didn’t have the strength to stop himself. He screamed in rage and grief, the lenses of his mask breaking out as his heat vision burst forward, hitting the Spider in the back. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t even try until the Spider lay still and burning on the ground. Tim turned, barely able to see as the heat took the rest of their opponents, not pausing until all of them lay dead around them.

Only then, with just his friends still standing, did Tim regain enough control to stop it. He stood for a moment, breathing heavily, tears rolling down his face. What had he just done?

Pru, Z and Owens were staring at him in shock. None of them moved or spoke, just looked at him, their faces horrified.

“Tim…”

Damian’s choked whisper reached Tim’s ears and he was moving again, kneeling by his brother’s side. Damian looked afraid, and small, so small, reduced to the child he really was. “Stay with me, Dami,” Tim said. “Stay with me.” He looked at the wound, huge and bloody, the Robin uniform turning dark. Tim reactivated his heat vision, cauterizing the wound to stop it bleeding. “PAPA!” Tim called. “PAPA, HELP!”

There was no answer, no rush of wind to indicate Clark was coming. Tim waited for a minute before screaming out again. “BATMAN?!”

Nothing. No movement, no speck of black in the darkening sky. Tim looked around desperately; they couldn’t stay here, the Council of Spiders would be back...

“Get a rope,” Tim ordered. “A long rope.”

It took a moment before Z scrambled to obey, pulling a length of rope out of his pack. Tim tied one end around his waist before he tossed it back. “Tie yourselves to this and hold on,” he ordered.

“Tim, what…”

“Do it, quickly.”

They obeyed, moving as quick as they could. Tim lifted Damian and stood, making sure his team was secure before he leaped, flying off in the air, trusting his strength to pull them all. He heard Pru scream, heard Owens swear, but he didn’t pause or look back, didn’t think about anything except getting Damian to safety.

It was only a few minutes before Tim flew in the window of the WE building in Baghdad. He barely paused to make sure his team had landed safely inside before he laid Damian down on the floor and cut the rope. Damian was laying very still, his eyes closed. Tim could just hear his heartbeat, faint and slow. He ripped open Damian’s tunic to get a better look at the wound. It was deep, the cauterization barely enough to keep it together. A quick x-ray and Tim could see that several organs had been damaged.

He only looked up again when the door opened and Tam came in. Tim wasn’t even surprised to see her--he suspected that Dick had sent a number of people looking for him everywhere. As soon as she was in the room, his team had their weapons drawn.

“Stand down, she’s a friend,” Tim said.

Tam was staring, her face a mask of horror. “What happened?” she demanded.

Tim was shaking. “I...I failed him,” he said.

“I’m calling Superman,” Tam said.

“I tried.” The tears were faster than ever. “He’s not answering...neither is Batman. Something must have happened...Tam...we’re on our own.”

Tam was shaking as well, but before she could say more, the door burst open again. They all turned as a dozen ninjas came into the room. Tim knew their symbol at once and was on his feet, standing between them and Damian.

They didn’t seem to notice as they grabbed Tam and the team. One of them stepped over to Tim, pulling a green rock from his pocket. Tim felt weak, then nauseous, and then nothing as the kryptonite overwhelmed him and he blacked out.

*

Fucking zombies.

Fucking zombies and their black rings and their glorious purpose. Fucking Black Lantern Corp trying to kill the entire universe. Fucking Wonder Woman dragging Clark out here to deal with it instead of being home with the sons who needed him.

But Clark could deal with all of that. He could deal with the zombies and leaving Conner and Jon and Terry behind.

He couldn’t deal with Bruce rising from the grave, the batsuit in tatters around him, with his skull missing.

“No,” Clark breathed. “No, please don’t do this...I’ve already let go, don’t make me…”

“Come, my love,” the zombie whispered. “Come and join me here...come and be a part of the death that will consume us all.”

He knew he only survived because Hal interfered. If he hadn’t, Clark would have fallen prey to the Black Lanterns. As it was, he was still barely holding himself together when the Justice League gathered later.

Wonder Woman sat next to him, not saying anything as he cried. He thought was was over this. He thought that he had managed to let go, that he was ready to live life alone without his husband. But seeing him again, even the pale puppet that only looked like Bruce, had brought it all back.

Clark had failed him. He had failed to keep their children safe, he had failed to protect their cities. He knew that if their positions were reversed, Bruce would carry on. Bruce would shake off losing Clark and keep going, keep their family safe and happy. Clark...he couldn’t do that.

“It wasn’t him,” Diana said suddenly.

Clark looked up. “What?”

“When...when it was put back in the grave…” She swallowed. “It was fake, Clark...that wasn’t Bruce”

“But…” Clark’s head was spinning. “But he died, it came outta the grave I dug, it was wearin’ the uniform I buried him in…”

“Which means?”

Clark stared straight ahead, eyes wide. “He’s alive,” he breathed. “Tim was right.” Clark was on his feet in a second. “BATMAN!”

It took only a moment for Dick to appear, having torn himself away from the clean-up. “What is it?”

“Tim was right,” Clark said, the tears faster now. “He was right...yer father’s alive.”

Dick stared, incredulous under his mask. “But...how? Where is he?”

“I don’t know yet,” Diana said. “But we’ll find him...I know we will.”

Dick was quiet for a moment. “History,” he said. “Tim went to Ra’s for a reason...there must have been a plan, some sort of...I don’t know. We’ll need to learn more.”

“We do,” Clark said. “Dick, I need y’t’go back...tell the others…”

“No,” Dick said, shocking Clark. “No, Papa, I’m not leaving...I can’t abandon him again. Jon and Terry are safe, and the others…” He swallowed. “Tim won’t listen to me, and I trust him to care for Damian...and Conner...I don’t know what we’ll tell Conner.”

Clark nodded. “Then we’d better git t’work,” he said.

*

History was exhausting, and annoying, and Clark’s emotional state was not helping.

It was frustrating, zapping from time to time and place to place, always one step behind whatever was happening to Bruce. It was only the knowledge that Bruce was alive and waiting at the end of it that kept Clark going as long as he did, following the rest of the Justice League, looking for every bit of evidence, Dick next to him like a constant shadow.

And then finally they had him, at the end of time, in the temporary base the Justice League had managed to put together, and Bruce was there, looking ill and drawn, and Clark couldn’t even bring himself to say anything as his husband fell in his arms, drained after the battle to release him from the being possessing his body.

“Bruce,” he breathed. “Yer alive.”

“I’m alive,” Bruce repeated. “For…for the moment.” He looked up and held out his other arm for Dick to rush into the embrace as well.”

“What?”

“It was Darkseid’s plan,” Bruce said. “There’s…I don’t know how to explain it, but…all the temporal energy…radiation…basically, when I return home…the universe will be destroyed.”

“But…” Dick was wide-eyed, his cowl pulled back. “We can’t…how do we stop it?”

“I have to die,” Bruce said. “You have to stop my heart…let it all dissipate…”

“No,” Clark said. “No, I ain’t losin’ you again!”

Dick was sheet-white, clinging to his father like a child. Bruce could only look at them with tears in his eyes. “Clark, you have to,” he said. “I can’t...my life isn’t worth the entire universe.”

“It is t’me,” Clark said. “Bruce…”

“Dad, please,” Dick begged. “Please don’t make us go through it again.”

Bruce kissed Dick’s temple gently. “Tell Cass and your brothers I love them,” he said. “So much...and I’m so proud of all of them.”

“No…” Dick said. “Please don’t make me…”

“Go home, Nightwing,” Bruce said. “That’s an order.”

Dick clung to Bruce for another moment before he turned, pulling the cowl back up over his face. Bruce watched him go for a moment before he called, “Dick!”

Dick turned, face unreadable behind Batman’s mask.

“Make sure Conner gets the message,” Bruce said.

Dick nodded. “I will.” He turned back and went to find a time sphere back home.

Clark glared when Bruce turned to him. “I ain’t leavin’,” Clark said. “I swore an oath t’stay by yer side til death do us part, and I ain’t gonna break it now.”

Bruce nodded and reached out his hand. Clark took it, kissing the knuckles gently.

“Do you remember when Tim and Conner learned to fly?” Bruce asked.

Clark closed his eyes, that day washing over him. “Conner was four and Tim was three,” he said. “And Conner was afraid of heights...I dunno why, but he was. And Tim was already in the air…”

“And Conner wanted to keep him from falling,” Bruce said. “So he asked...and I picked him up to be closer to Tim.”

“He clung t’you with all his might,” Clark said. “I thought he was gonna break yer neck, that’s how tight it was. He was so scared y’were gonna let go.” Clark smiled past his tears. “But you didn’t.”

“No,” Bruce said. “I couldn’t...and then Tim fell and Conner was so worried about catching him...he let go of me and jumped.”

“And they both flew,” Clark said. “Knocked over a lotta Alfred’s vases, but they did it.”

“I was so proud of them,” Bruce said. “And I was so happy...happy to have all of you.” He took a shuddering breath. “I know I’ve fucked up a lot,” he said. “And I’m sorry...I’m sorry for everything.”

Clark pulled him into his arms, close to his chest. “Y’don’t need t’be sorry anymore,” Clark said. “I fergive you, fer ev’rythin’...and...and I hope you can fergive me as well.”

“I already did,” Bruce said.

They kissed, close and deep and with every emotion either of them had ever felt. “I love you,” Bruce breathed. “So much...more than anything except the kids.”

“Even more than Gotham?”

Bruce pressed his forehead to Clark’s. “Even more than Gotham.” He kissed Clark again. “When it’s over...if they can’t resuscitate me...take me home. Please promise you’ll take me home.”

“We’ll go home t’gether,” Clark said. “We’ll go home, and we’ll hug our kids, and...and we’ll be fine.”

“Clark…”

“I ain’t lettin’ it go,” Clark said. “We’re gonna save you.”

“Don’t…” Bruce swallowed. “If it can’t be done here, let it go.”

Clark squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay,” he said. “But if we can…”

“If you can, I will gladly return home with you.” Bruce kissed him once more. “But if you can’t...I’m ready to go.”

Bruce let go and Clark knew it was time. He turned and walked away to let the others take over. He couldn’t turn back to see the medication enter Bruce’s bloodstream, couldn’t look back to see Bruce’s eyes close. It was only due to his superhearing that he heard Bruce whisper out one last gasp.

“Goodbye, my love.”

*

Tim knew the room he woke up in. He sighed, frustrated, before he got out of bed and went to the door.

It was unlocked, the hallways only with a standard guard. Clearly Ra’s didn’t think that Tim was a threat to him. Tim nodded to the guards as he passed, heading for the parlor.

Ra’s was waiting, standing by the fireplace. “Detective,” he said without turning.

“Where’s Robin?” Tim asked.

“Safe,” Ra’s said. “He is being attended by my best physicians…I did consider throwing him in the pit, but you had staunched his wounds enough that we deemed it unnecessary.”

Tim nodded. “And the girl?”

“She is cared for…locked up, but unharmed. Your teammates, however…”

“Leave them alone. They did as you asked and found me.”

“They did not bring you straight back.”

“We were close enough to where I was going…they would have when I was finished…”

“Would they?” Ra’s finally turned to face him. “Would you have allowed them to bring my grandson back?”

Tim swallowed. “I…Damian belongs in Gotham,” he said lamely.

“Damian belongs here,” Ra’s said. “As my heir…as the warrior he was born to be.”

“He loves Gotham,” Tim said. “He’s been happy there…he’s learned to be good.”

“He’s learned to be weak. Sentimental. Or did you think I didn’t know about his attachment to your little brother?”

“He…”

“It doesn’t matter. He is back where he belongs, and he will stay here. I cannot have my heir run back to Gotham, to be raised soft like the rest of the Batman’s sons.”

“You can’t hold him here! Batman…”

“Has never found this place…neither of them has.” Ra’s was looking at Tim fully, eyes glimmering unpleasantly. “Of course, there are circumstances where I might let Damian go…he has grown quite weak since Talia took him.” He stepped forward and raised a hand to Tim’s cheek. “But if you give me another heir…a stronger son…”

Tim caught Ra’s’ wrist. “Put your hand on me again and I will break it,” he growled.

Ra’s only smirked. “I did not mean now…it’s as I said to Mr. Luthor. When you’re older, I think you would make a wonderful consort.”

Tim shoved away from Ra’s. “Don’t you dare.”

“Do you believe your brother will come and defend you here?” Ra’s asked. “I know he was angry with his own father, but Superboy cannot find you anymore than Batman can. So, you can either agree…submit…or you can leave Damian here, where he belongs.”

“They will find us.”

“Will they?” Ra’s turned away. “I’ll let you think it over…but your life would be very comfortable here.”

Tim shuddered and left the room quickly. He would find Damian and Tam, and they would get out of here.

He would never let Ra’s make good on his promise.

It didn’t take Tim long to find his team. They weren’t in the dungeon, exactly, but they were in holding.

None of them blinked when Tim punched the guards and door in. “Wondered when you’d wake up,” Z said. “He used a higher dose than normal.”

“We need to get out,” Tim said. “Escape the Cradle and get Tam and Damian back to Gotham.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Owens said. “We’re in enough trouble right now without busting you out from under Ra’s’ nose.”

“You can’t just let him keep us!”

Pru bit her lip. “What will he do to you?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“I…” Tim swallowed. “I can’t let Damian grow up to be like him,” he finally answered, pointedly avoiding her question. “Our father would never forgive me…he probably won’t as it is.”

“Tim…”

“We can help you,” Z said. “And the girl. But…there’s nothing we can do for Damian. Even if we got him out of here, Ra’s will never stop hunting him. Maybe…maybe it’s better to just…”

“I’m not leaving without him,” Tim said. “Even if…” He glanced at Pru again. “Even if I have to give my own life, Damian will go back to Gotham.”

The others exchanged a look. “It doesn’t matter,” Owens finally said. “You’d have to fight the entire League to get out of here, and even being…you…you couldn’t beat them all with Damian injured.”

Tim looked at them, pleading. “Please…at least…give me something…anything!” He glared, tears in his eyes. “All of you owe me your lives…the least you can do is help me save my brother.”

He waited, holding his breath, as his team had a completely silent conference. He recognized some of the language—Cass and Damian used it frequently—but he didn’t quite pick up all of it.

Finally, Pru turned back to him. “We’ll help,” she said. “But you have to trust us.”

Tim nodded. “Thank you.”

“Now go,” Pru said. “Find Damian, and the girl…”

“Tam,” Tim said. “Her name is Tam.”

“Tam, then,” Pru said. “Find them, and then play nice. Do as Ra’s asks, and don’t get into trouble.”

Tim nodded. “All right.” He turned and left the room.

 _Don’t trust them, Tim._ Bruce’s voice was loud in his head. _Don’t trust anyone, especially not assassins._

 _They’re yer friends, Tim._ Clark’s voice was quieter, but no less firm. _They all have good in them. And they honor blood oaths._

Tim made sure he was alone before he sank to the floor against a wall, head in his hands. God, his parents were going to be so disappointed in him. He could already hear Bruce lecturing him on taking too many risks, could already see Clark’s look of anger that he had taken other people into danger.

Not just other people. Damian and Tam. His brother, the daughter of Bruce’s oldest friend…he’d gotten them involved in this mess when he should have just stayed on his own. Shouldn’t have agreed to go with Ra’s to Metropolis, should have flown Damian straight back to Gotham instead of taking him into the desert…

Should have stayed home. Should have listened when Clark told him to stop fighting and see a counselor. Should have stayed with Steph when she cried.

None of it mattered now. The list of should-haves was longer than any other list in Tim’s head. The only one that mattered now was the “should save Damian.”

Tim closed his eyes and focused. At first, just the sounds of the Cradle, guards shuffling, Ra’s’ voice giving orders…

There. He could hear Talia, speaking softly, murmuring gentle words of encouragement. Tim got up and followed her voice through winding hallways, to a small room in the back.

Damian was lying in bed, deathly pale and still unconscious, bandages wrapped around his chest, but Tim could hear his heartbeat. Talia was sitting beside him, holding his hand. She looked up as Tim entered the room.

“Timothy.”

“Talia.”

She glanced back at her son. “I don’t know if I should thank you or curse you.”

“Curse me.” Tim moved to Damian’s other side and knelt beside the bed. “It’s my fault he’s hurt…my fault he almost died.”

“True,” Talia said. “But it brought him back to me.” She swallowed. “I’ve missed him…so much.”

Tim looked up at her. “Why did you bring him to us in the first place?” he asked.

“Bruce…” Talia took a deep breath. “He made some good points when we…discussed it. I knew that he would ensure Damian was loved…I knew that…that Damian could be truly happy there.” She met Tim’s eye. “Was he?”

“I think so,” Tim said. “He and Jon…they’re best friends…Damian learned to play and have fun and…and just be a kid. And…and he taught Jon to be more assertive, and to fight…they’re good for each other.”

“Good,” Talia said. “And Jon is the youngest of you?”

“…second youngest,” Tim said after a moment’s hesitation. “There’s a new baby.”

Talia pressed her lips together. “I did love your father,” she said. “It was probably the stupidest thing I ever did…I knew he just wanted a quick fuck to forget about Superman…I knew I was only in his path because my father arranged it…but I did.”

Tim hesitated, then laid his hand over hers. “I know,” he said. “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have brought Damian to him. You wouldn’t have defied Ra’s.” He studied her for a moment. “Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know,” Talia said. “Even if I do…he had Superman, until his death…they…your parents are good together, and they produce beautiful children…you and Nightwing…and I imagine the younger ones will grow to be just as handsome and strong. But…I always wonder what it could have been like, if they hadn’t reconnected…if we could have had something.”

Tim let out a heavy breath. “That…probably wouldn’t have been good,” he said. “Not…not because of you, but…I remember that time, you know, and…all of us were so miserable with the situation…if they hadn’t worked it out, we would…” He broke off, struggling. “Well…at least now it’s a different sort of misery.”

“Happy families are all alike,” Talia muttered.

“Yeah,” Tim said.

They were silent for a few minutes before Tim spoke again. “Do you know the extent of his injuries?”

“Major bloodloss,” she said, going into doctor mode. “He’ll be down for a while…we had to do a transfusion and we’ll likely need another…fortunately, he and I are the same bloodtype. We also had to remove his spleen…it was hit directly, the only way to repair it would be the Pit and I…I wouldn’t let them do that to him. Not this young.”

Tim nodded. “Vaccinations?”

“All the major ones,” Talia said. “Immediately…and we’ll make sure he receives all the proper boosters. He’ll be staying in relative quarantine for the time being…I’ve had mine and you’re immune to almost everything.”

“Not as many things as my brothers,” Tim said. “But yes…that’s wise.” He leaned over and kissed Damian’s forehead gently. “Please let me know when he wakes up.”

“I will,” Talia promised. “The girl is down the hall…third door on the left.”

“Thank you.” Tim got up and left the room.

*

“Nightwing, report!”

It took Conner a moment to remember that meant him now. “All quiet,” he said into the comm. “Smallville, Bludhaven and Metropolis all under control.”

“Can you come to the Cave?” Oracle’s voice was strained. “We need your help.”

“What with?”

“We found Red Robin.”

Conner felt the air leave his lungs for a moment. “On my way.”

The cave was no less strange than the last time he’d been there. Batgirl and Oracle were waiting for him, Jon hovering nearby.

“Where is he?” Conner demanded.

“They’re in the Cradle,” Batgirl asked. “And Tam just got us coordinates.”

“The fuck are they doing there?”

“Language,” Oracle said softly. “From what Tam was able to tell us before she had to cut communications, the Robins ran into some trouble in the desert and Ra’s was able to get the drop on them. They need an out, but Ra’s is...reluctant to let Damian go again.”

Conner huffed out a breath. “How far?”

“Halfway across the world,” Batgirl said. “Can you make the trip carrying me?”

“Probably,” Conner said. “Coming back with you and Tam might be hard...I hope Tim’s capable of carrying Damian because I can’t carry all three of you now.”

“I wasn’t able to get a full report on their injuries,” Oracle said. “But I’m sure Tim will find the strength, even if he’s hurt.”

“Right.” Conner looked to Batgirl. “Ready?”

She nodded and Conner knelt to let her climb on his back. He straightened up and flew out of the Cave.

Barbara had barely turned back to her screen when she heard Terry start screaming. She sighed and wheeled around, wondering what he could possibly need now. She got to the crying toddler and scooped him up into her lap. “Jon?” she called, realizing the other boy wasn’t there.

There was no answer. “Jon!”

Nothing. No response, no childish giggle. Barbara felt panic rising in her chest as she went back to her computer, flipping through the logs.

Jon was gone, following Conner out of the cave a second behind, almost too fast to be seen. Barbara hit the comm at once. “Nightwing…”

He didn’t respond. Of course--the comm was ineffective at the speed Conner would be going, and the lead-lined Batcave meant his superhearing was of no use. By the time Conner would be able to hear her, they would be too deep in the Cradle to turn around--assuming that Conner would even be able to hear her from there. From what Clark had said, the Cradle was well-shielded enough that he couldn’t pick up Tim’s heartbeat from Gotham.

Barbara clutched Terry, who had gone from screaming to sniffling. How many of them would she lose? How many of them would die in this war, just as things were supposed to get better?

*

The Cradle was everything Conner expected. Dark, mysterious, impenetrable. He landed outside, soft as he could a good distance away and let Cass off his back.

She glanced at him, unreadable through her mask. “Get in, get the others, leave,” she whispered, so soft that Conner could only hear her because of his powers. “No fighting if we can avoid it.”

“We should have brought Spoiler,” Conner muttered.

Cass shook her head. “She would be angry...like Wonder Girl.”

Conner nodded, but before he could move again, there was a blur of blue and Jon landed next to them, wearing a Superboy t-shirt and a red cape, his jeans torn and face dirty.

“Jon!” Conner hissed. “What are you doing?”

Jon’s face was determined. “I’m going to save Robin,” he said.

“Go home,” Conner said. “You’re too young for this.”

“You let him do it!” Jon snapped.

“Robin is highly trained and older than you,” Conner said. “You remember last time…”

Jon looked as stubborn as ever. “You don’t wanna be Superboy,” he said. “Why can’t I?”

Conner looked at Cass helplessly. She didn’t move for a moment before she shrugged. “Extra hands,” she said.

Conner sighed. He really didn’t have time to drag Jon home, and Cass had a point--Jon could be helpful, especially since Conner wasn’t exactly fighting at full power. “Fine,” he said. “But you have to listen to me. If I tell you to run, or hide, or...or anything, you need to listen. Understood?”

Jon nodded, his tiny face determined. Conner turned back, flicking on the lenses of the Nightwing mask. “Let’s go.”

They moved quickly, quietly, the air barely rippling around them as they approached the Cradle. They reached the wall and crouched down, looking for any weak point, any opening.

“Tim,” Conner breathed, hoping they were close enough. “Tim, can you hear me?”

It took a long time, almost a minute, before Conner heard the whisper. “Kon?”

“We’re outside,” Conner hissed. “Can you get out of there?”

“Not without attracting attention,” Tim said. “Damian’s shut away too well...they’ll notice you right away if you come in.”

Conner bit his lip and glanced to the side. “How high up are you?”

“I can move about freely,” Tim said. “Damian’s pretty high up, though...he’s...he’s not in good shape.”

“And Tam?”

“Near Damian...but not too well-guarded.”

Conner nodded. “Is there a window somewhere?”

“At the highest tower,” Tim said. “But it’s small...I can barely get through it, and Ra’s would know if I tried.”

“Superboy,” Conner said. “Can you go up there?”

Jon nodded.

“Go inside and find Red Robin,” Conner said. “And the two of you can cause a distraction from there.”

“Kon, what…”

Jon flew up to the tower. Conner watched until Jon had wriggled inside before he turned back to Cass. “Red Robin can hear us,” he said. “We just have to wait.”

She nodded. They fell silent, waiting.

Tim was worryingly quiet for a long time before he spoke. “Batman is going to kill you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let Dami be alone.” Jon tried to sound defiant, but his voice trembled. “Nightwing says to cause a distraction.”

“There isn’t a big enough distraction in the world to get you inside...Nightwing?”

“Just trying it out,” Conner mumbled.

Before Tim could say any more, a door opened in the side of the building and several ninjas were on them. Conner turned to fight, throwing hits everywhere. He could see Batgirl fighting as well, more and more opponents coming outside.

“Nightwing?”

“We’re under attack.” Conner was starting to hurt again, the Kryptonite in his blood clawing back to the surface.

Tim was quiet for a worryingly long moment. “Stop resisting,” he said. “Getting captured gets you inside.

Conner wanted to protest as one of the ninjas pulled a kryptonite stone out of his pocket. Conner could feel the pain spike, but he stayed standing. “Tim…”

“Nightwing, I promise, it will be okay!”

Conner didn’t have the energy to fight. He was still awake, but it all hurt, his muscles screaming as the poison inside them reacted to the poison outside. He fell, and didn’t rise. Batgirl moved to his side, standing over him in protection.

“Bring them in,” one of the ninjas commanded.

Conner couldn’t even put up a token resistance as he and Batgirl were dragged inside. The ninjas took them up several staircases and through a dizzying array of hallways before they were shoved into a small room at the top.

Damian was lying on the bed, unconscious. Jon was sitting next to him, looking very distraught. An older woman was also there, concern etched on her face. Tam was in a corner, three assassins hardly older than Conner beside her.

“Superboy, report,” Conner said.

“Robin is badly injured,” Jon said, trying to sound grown-up even though he was clearly terrified.

“Moving him will be difficult,” the woman added. “Even if my father would release him.” She stood and moved toward them. “Talia al-Ghul...Damian’s mother.”

Conner blinked and shook her hand. “Nightwing,” he said. “Did you order our capture?”

“I did,” Talia said. “If I hadn’t, you’d be in my father’s study being questioned...or in his torture chamber if he’s in a bad mood.”

“Is there a way out of here that doesn’t involve fighting?” Batgirl asked.

“Not likely,” Talia said. “Timothy will be negotiating our escape by now, but it will take him time.”

“And we’re trapped up here,” one of the assassins said. “Ra’s would be able to close in and prevent us from leaving easily.”

Conner groaned. “So what do we do?” he asked.

“We wait,” Talia said. “Either Timothy will be able to secure our freedom, or we will have to fight.” She looked to Jon. “If we have to fight, you must get Damian out. Whatever happens, you cannot stop. Do you understand?”

Jon nodded, his face determined. Conner moved to his side and pulled his brother into a hug. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “Tim will get us out.”

The room was quiet as they waited. Batgirl and Tam were whispering in the corner, no doubt formulating a plan in case Tim failed to get them out. The young assassins stood in an array, communicating in the silent language Conner had never learned. Jon stayed curled in Conner’s arms, clearly trying not to cry.

And Damian…

Conner had to look away from Damian, to clamp down on the sudden surge of anger that came up at seeing his stepbrother again. Here was Damian, hurt and vulnerable, with his own mother to care for him, their brothers doing everything to save him, and when they got back to Gotham Clark would fuss and care for Damian like he always did.

And Conner would be forgotten again. Because that’s how it always went. Because Damian was important, and wanted, and loved. Damian would always be taken care of. No one would ever dream of asking Damian to keep going after all this.

Conner was tempted to leave. Take Jon and go out a window and leave Damian to his grandfather. Let the little bastard live life as he had before, let it go back to how it was before Bruce knew he had another son, before Bruce decided that one son was more important than the ones he’d already had.

It took a moment for the anger to fade and Conner to feel horrified at himself. Damian was a child, a hurt, vulnerable child who Dick had dragged into the war and who would go back out into it as soon as anyone would let him. And even if they couldn’t save Damian, Conner knew the truth.

Damian would always have a place in Bruce Wayne’s house. Conner never would, never had. Might as well take the favored son back there and then…

Then Conner could fade into the night. Maybe stay in Bludhaven, or Smallville, or anywhere that wasn’t Gotham. Gotham didn’t need Nightwing. Gotham didn’t need him.

Conner had long lost track of time when the door opened and Tim slipped inside.  There was a fresh cut on his cheek, a bruise blossoming under one eye. Conner flinched, wondering if Ra’s wore a kryptonite ring just to punch Tim with.

Talia was on her feet at once. “Well?”

“Negotiations are closed,” Tim said.

“Not good?” Conner guessed.

“Not right now,” Tim said. He turned to the trio of assassins. “We have to fight our way out.”

They nodded. “We’ll give you as much cover as we can,” the woman promised. “You get home to your wife.”

Tim went as red as his costume. “Pru…”

She grinned. “Ready, boss?”

Talia drew a sword. “Always.” She turned to look at the heroes. “Take care of my son, Nightwing.”

Conner nodded. “I will.”

Talia nodded and she and the other assassins dashed out the door.

Tim seemed to shake off his reverie. “Right...we’re going out the door. Batgirl, you and I go ahead and fight anyone who gets in the way. Superboy, get Robin and stay close to us. Tam, stay with the boys. Nightwing, watch our backs. I don’t know how the loyalties will divide, but we’re going to be outnumbered.”

Jon nodded and picked Damian up. It took a moment for him to get his brother slung across his shoulders in a comfortable enough carry, but then they were moving.

There were ninjas already coming. Tim and Cass were on them immediately, Tim’s strength making up for his lack of weapon, Cass’s training compensating her distraction in keeping half an eye on Jon. Conner herded Tam and Jon through the fight, hitting everyone that came anywhere close to them. It took almost an hour with Tim’s guidance before they found a way out. By then, Conner’s aches were back and he was starting to grow exhausted.

But at last, they had fought through and were outside. Tim barely glanced back before he lifted Tam up. “Home, then,” he said.

Conner nodded and knelt for Cass to climb back up on him. Tim made sure everyone was situated before he took to the sky, Conner and Jon just behind him.

By the time they got back to the Batcave, Conner didn’t have the energy to think. He barely registered Cass dropping off his back before he collapsed, eyes sliding shut as his muscles screamed from the use they’d gotten tonight. How long had they even been gone?

He heard someone say something, panicked voices, then someone calling for Alfred. Someone was lifting him up off the floor and carrying him to the medbay.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Just overdid it.”

“Damn right, you overdid it.” And when had Dick ever sounded that angry? “What were you thinking, taking Jon with you?!”

“He didn’t take me!” Jon sounded angry as well. “I followed him. I’m not a baby anymore!”

Conner opened his eyes just enough to see Dick turn on Jon. Jon was standing straight, his lip quivering. Conner wasn’t sure if Dick was about to shout or cry.

“I’m sorry,” Conner whispered.

Dick went quiet for a long moment. “Rest,” he finally said. “Superman will be home soon...they said within the day.” He turned around. “Red Robin, upstairs.”

Conner’s eyes closed again as Dick and Tim left the cave. He heard Cass says something to Barbara about taking Tam home before he drifted off into a light doze.

He awoke after what seemed only a few minutes to the cave door opening and amused voices. Conner sat up at once--he knew them, knew those tones…

“Master Bruce!” Conner could only stare as Alfred hurried across the cave to…

“No,” Conner whispered. “That’s…”

Bruce was standing there, alive, if pale. Clark was next to him, looking more overjoyed than Conner had ever seen, though the smile was slipping quickly as he took in the sight in the medical bay.

Bruce barely glanced at Conner before he was rushing toward Damian. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Master Damian and Master Tim had an incident in Iraq,” Alfred said. “I didn’t get the details, but Master Damian will be in bed for a good long time.”

Conner couldn’t hear what Bruce was muttering, but he assumed it was nothing good.

“Jon?” Clark said. “Y’alright?”

“I’m okay, Papa,” Jon said. “Daddy…”

Bruce turned and swept Jon up in a close embrace. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

Jon clung to Bruce tightly and Conner felt his stomach sinking. Bruce was alive, and home, and it didn’t matter how or why, just that Conner knew he needed to get out of here.

Conner stood up, forcing the dizziness to go down. “I’ll be off then,” he said. “Superman, you’ll have my report in the morning. Tell Batman I’ll await his instruction.”

Clark turned, looking confused. “What d’y’mean?” he asked.

“I…” Conner struggled. “I can’t stay here,” he finally said. “See you around, Bruce.”

Bruce looked up, over Jon. “Conner…”

Conner didn’t wait to hear whatever Bruce was going to say. He headed toward the door and took off into the rising sun.

*

Tim kept his eyes on the ground as he followed Dick out of the Batcave and into the house above. The cowl was pushed off, but Tim still hadn’t been ready to see his brother in that costume.

Then again, when they had reached the parlor and Dick turned on him, it was very hard not to see Bruce in him. Tim flinched at the glare Dick was sending him, sharp Kryptonian eyes narrowed in a fury that only Batman could achieve.

“What the FUCK, Tim?!” Dick shouted. Tim flinched back. “You ran off for a year, and now you’re back with Damian looking like Hell, and for what?!”

“Dad’s alive,” Tim said. “He’s alive, and I was on track to finding him before the Spiders showed up.”

“You put yourself, and Damian in danger, and forced Conner and Cass to go into danger as well! And of course Jon would go...Tim, you could have gotten all of them killed!”

“I didn’t ask Conner or Cass to come after us!” Tim shouted. Tears were starting to form in his eyes as he pulled off his ruined mask. “You sent them looking because you don’t trust me and you never have! You still think I’m just Robin...that I’m still a little kid, and I’m not! I’m almost an adult, I can make my own decisions, and I don’t need you to tell me what’s right or wrong!”

“You were benched for a reason!” Dick was crying too, his anger permeating the entire room. “Papa wanted you to actually get your head screwed on straight before you ran off chasing rumors, but you couldn’t listen to him, could you? You’d rather be the hero than actually listen to the people who care about you! You’d rather just try to be Dad than actually think about why he died to begin with!”

“Look who’s talking! You’re standing there, wearing his costume, like it belongs to you...like you could ever hope to replace him!”

Dick drew himself up. “I did what was best for Gotham. You abandoned it!”

“You did what was best for you,” Tim snapped. “You couldn’t think of anything but your city and your reputation and keeping up his legacy...and it wasn’t me that put Damian in danger! You made him Robin, even though he’s human...you took him out on the streets, knowing what could happen to him!” Tim couldn’t stop the next words, even though he knew he should. “You’re not Dad, Dick. And you’re never going to be even half as good as him!”

Dick looked like Tim had slapped him, and Tim almost wished he had--that would have been kinder than those words. Tim was already regretting saying it, but before he could apologize, the door to the parlor opened.

Both of them turned, their eyes going wide. Bruce was standing in the doorway, pale and a bit thinner than Tim remembered, but alive. Alive and looking as strong as he ever did.

Dick stared at him, open-mouthed. Tim barely had time for his brain to catch up to him before he had launched himself at his father, throwing himself on Bruce’s neck, tears falling faster now.

“Dad,” he sobbed. “You’re home.”

Bruce hugged Tim close, pressing a kiss in his hair. “I am home,” he said. “Oh, Timmy…”

Tim didn’t look up for a second, didn’t let go of Bruce. He wasn’t letting go again, wasn’t going to let his father leave ever again. He didn’t register that Dick was still in the room until he felt Bruce shift to hold Tim in one arm so he could embrace Dick with the other. They stayed there for a very long time before Bruce let go of them both.

“Have you seen Damian?” Dick asked.

“I have,” Bruce said. “Alfred assured me that his injuries are no longer life-threatening and advised me to come break up your fight.” He gave both of them a harsh look.

Tim felt the guilt creeping back up. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he said. “I was trying to help…”

“I know,” Bruce said. “Clark gave me a basic debriefing before we got here.”

Tim shifted. “And?”

“And right now, I don’t particularly care to berate anyone for two years worth of mistakes,” Bruce said. “So, both of you will stop fighting, and I want your reports tomorrow. Understood?”

Tim nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir,” Dick echoed.

“Good.” Bruce gave them a rare smile and pulled them close again. “I’m so proud of both of you.”

“But…”

“None of it now, Dicky. You did the best you could.”

Dick fell silent, and Tim just leaned on Bruce for a long time.

The spell was broken when the door opened again and Clark came in, Terry on his hip. Bruce let go of his elder sons and moved toward them, mesmerized.

“Terry,” Clark said. “This is yer daddy.”

Terry looked up at Bruce with wide eyes for a long moment before he reached out a tiny hand. Bruce smiled and took him, tears in his eyes.

“Hello, Terry,” he whispered.

Clark smiled at them both, and Tim could feel everything start to fall back into place.

*

Tim wanted to say everything went back to normal, but it didn’t.

Conner hadn’t come back to the house since Bruce returned. Tim supposed he understood that, but he still felt the emptiness where his brother should have been. Jason, too, had kept himself scarce, though he had condescended to drop in and trade barbs with Bruce.

Damian woke up a few days after Bruce returned, as grumpy as ever, though he did brighten considerably when it was Bruce holding his hand as he regained consciousness. And while everyone was determined to make Damian _rest, dammit,_ it was good to hear Damian grumble about how he was fine and ready to go back to work now.

Bruce had shot that suggestion down very quickly.

Overall, the mood in the house had lightened considerably, but it still took almost a week before Tim could escape the manor. While he was technically still benched from patrol, Bruce and Clark had agreed that it was both pointless and demeaning to actually ground him to the house, so Tim waited until everyone was generally in a better mood before he slipped out and headed down to the other side of Gotham.

It took more courage than he had anticipated to walk up to the building. It took a longer minute than he wanted to decide if he should knock on the door or just go in through the window.

In the end, it was more expedient to just drop in. Tim made sure no one was watching before he flew up and knocked on a familiar window.

He could see Steph inside, her back to the window. She turned over at his knock, her eyes growing wide as she hurried over to let him inside. He had barely hit the ground before she had pulled him to her, kissing him hard and deep.

Tim kissed back, joy overfilling him until they had hit the bed, still twined in each other. It was only when Steph had pulled him down that he pulled away from her, just looking at her in awe.

She was thinner than she had been, and there was a long scar on her cheek, but she otherwise looked the same as always. Tim reached out and touched the scar lightly.

“It’s not the only one,” Steph said. “Just the most obvious.”

“What happened?” Tim asked, his voice soft.

“Run-in with Black Mask,” Steph said. “Cass took care of it.”

Tim felt his stomach clench again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been here, I should have…”

Steph silenced him with another kiss. “I know you were busy.”

“It didn’t matter,” Tim whispered. “In the end, none of it mattered...the Justice League saved my dad, and all I did was get everyone hurt.”

“Tim,” Steph said firmly. “This had nothing to do with you. I ran into Black Mask because of a lot of other things, none of which would have been avoided if you were here. The only difference is that your sister saved me instead of you. You couldn’t have prevented this, I promise.”

“I still should have been here.”

“The world is made of should have beens, but that doesn’t change it,” Steph said. “It happened, and it’s over. What’s important is you’re here, now...you’re back in my arms, and we’re still alive.” She kissed him again, softer now. “You’re still my husband, and I love you.”

Tim smiled against her, holding her close. “You know a handfasting is only good for a year,” he said. “So you have to marry me again to call me husband.”

“What a tragedy,” Steph said. “You turn eighteen in two months, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Tim said.

“So…” Steph slid off the bed and knelt beside it. “Timothy Kent-Wayne, will you marry me again?”

Tim reached out and took her hand. “Yes,” he said. “I will marry you.” He smiled and took her hands. “And this time, I’ll even buy a ring.”

*

Conner stared out over Bludhaven, the lenses of his mask a blessing. He could see everything clear enough, but no one could see him.

He barely flinched when Dick landed next to him. “See you’re back in your own outfit,” Conner said.

Dick shrugged. “Feels better. The Batsuit is really heavy.”

Conner snorted. “You have superstrength.”

“It interferes with my flight aerodynamics.”

Conner sighed. “Suppose you’ll want the name back, too.”

Dick was quiet for a moment. “I gave it to you for a reason,” he said. “I knew that...that you would do your duty...that you would defend our city well. I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Conner said. “I…” He swallowed heavily. “I don’t think I can just keep following you. Robin, Nightwing...those were never for me.”

“Kon…”

“But I’d like to stay,” Conner continued. “I…Superman was never really my mentor,” he said. “I mean, I learned from him, and I love him, but...he wasn’t the one who took me flying when I was lonely. He wasn’t the one who believed in me when I was broken. He wasn’t the one who gave me a place when I thought I’d never have one.” Conner looked at his brother. “And...and there are meant to be two.”

“Nightwing and Flamebird,” Dick said.

Conner nodded. “If you want me.”

Dick pulled Conner into a close embrace. “I always want you,” he said. “I won’t make you be a sidekick...more of a partner. And hey...you won’t even have to change costumes.”

Conner laughed. “No,” he said. “That’s just a bonus.”

They hugged for another minute before they broke apart. “You should talk to B,” Dick said. “I mean...I know, but…”

Conner sighed. “I know,” he said. “I just...I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Superman already filled him in on most of the details,” Dick said. “You just...need to work out where you go from here.”

“Okay,” Conner said. “I can do that.”

*

It took Conner a whole week to work up the nerve to go back to Gotham, and another few days after that to bring himself to knock on the door to the manor. Alfred didn’t seem particularly surprised to see him, though he did give him a pointed look. “Master Bruce is in his study.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Conner said. “I know I didn’t make an appointment, but…”

“Master Conner, you do not need an appointment to come here,” Alfred said. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Depends on how it goes,” Conner said.

“Your bearer would appreciate it.”

“I’ll think about it.” Conner walked up the stairs to the study, his feet feeling more like lead with every step. It took him longer than ever to reach the door, and even then he stood outside for almost five minutes before he could bring himself to knock.

“Come in.”

Conner swallowed and opened the door, stepping into the study. It was familiar, the place where he and Tim would always find Bruce during the day, where they had been lectured many times for childish misdeeds, where they could curl up in the window seat if Alfred was too busy to babysit…

Bruce was sitting at his desk, looking about the same as always now that he’d had time to get through his ordeal in history. He looked up as Conner came in. “Conner,” Bruce said.

“Bruce.” And it was a relief to finally call him something besides “Dad,” to stop pretending that this man had anything to do with him, even though the name felt heavy as he said it. That was final proof that Bruce wasn’t his father, that they had never been more than...well, never been anything at all.

Bruce almost looked sad. “Sit down,” he said. “Do you want tea?”

“No,” Conner said. “I’m not…” He broke off, struggling. “Look, I know what happened now, and...and I’ve had time to get used to it, and it’s shit, and…” He took a few deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.”

Conner looked up, surprised. Bruce definitely looked sad now, and older than Conner remembered. The last two years had aged him, more than they should have.

“Conner,” Bruce said. “When...when it happened…” Bruce seemed just as lost as Conner did, which helped in a strange way. “I was so angry,” he said. “And I couldn’t punish Luthor, so...so I took it out on you. And I shouldn’t have, and I tried to change, but…”

“You did your best,” Conner said. “I know that. And...Luthor’s an asshole, okay? I spent a year with him, and all he did was hurt me...in ways you never thought about.” Conner swallowed. “I won’t pretend to be grateful to you,” he said. “I’m glad you weren’t like him, but I’m not going to act like that makes you a saint. Both of you hurt me, in different ways, and...and I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I know,” Bruce said. “I wouldn’t expect you to. What I did to you...how I acted...it was inexcusable, and I won’t try to justify it. But…being dead changes things. Losing everything...I’m trying not to be that person anymore. I won’t ask you to forgive me, because I don’t deserve it, and I won’t ask for a second chance, because that would not be fair to you. All I can ask...all I will ask...is that we be civil to each other, for our family’s sake.”

Conner nodded. “I think I can do that,” he said. “I...I won’t be around much. I’m not ready for that. But...I won’t stay away forever. I’ll be here, for Tim and Jon and Terry...for Papa. And...if by some miracle, Batman needs my help...I’ll come.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said. “And...I’m sorry your father wasn’t what you wanted.”

Conner shrugged. “My father can rot in Hell,” he said. “My bearer is a hero, and I will stand by him. My brothers love me, and I love them in return. And...and my stepfather is a good man, and I appreciate some of what he did for me.”

“Your stepfather is a dick,” Bruce said. “There’s one good man in this room, Conner, and his name is not Bruce Wayne.”

Conner nodded and stood up. “Well...I’ll be around,” he said.

“Don’t go too far,” Bruce said. “I’ve been looking at the files from Cadmus, and Tim and I want to run tests to see what we can do to help.”

“Unless you can get ten prescriptions of Oxy, I doubt you can do much of anything.”

“You never know,” Bruce said. “I may not be a good man, but I am a very rich one.”

“That’s true,” Conner said. “That’s very true.”

*

Three months later, Clark woke suddenly, as he was wont to do. The house was silent, Bruce out for the night (in spite of everyone telling him it might be a bit too soon), Tim and Dick were gone and Jon, Terry and Damian were all tucked into bed. But Clark had heard something not right.

He slipped out of bed, grabbing the baseball bat under the bed and slipping on his glasses, more for show than anything. If it was a regular home invasion, it wouldn’t do for anyone to realize Superman lived in Wayne Manor.

He padded softly down the hall, listening. There. Soft whispers from Damian’s room. Clark readied himself and threw open the door.

There was a middle-aged woman kneeling next to Damian. The boy was still asleep, but the woman turned as Clark came in. She raised a finger to her lips. “He’s still resting,” she whispered.

“Who’re you?” Clark hissed.

“I’m his mother.” She stood and walked toward Clark, studying him. “I just wanted to check and see how his wounds were healing.”

Clark relaxed slightly. “Sorry,” he said.

She sighed. “Is there somewhere else we can do this?”

“Downstairs,” Clark said. “I can make tea...not as good as Alfred’s but it’ll be warm.”

“Thank you.”

They slipped down to the kitchen, pausing for Clark to look in on Jon and Terry. Clark set about making tea, while Talia sat awkwardly at the table.

She didn’t speak until Clark sat down across from her. “I…I should thank you,” she said. “For looking after him.”

“It’s…” Clark shrugged. “Well…he’s a good kid. And it was good fer Jon t’have a friend…and Dami needed some love.”

“I know.” Talia looked down at the cup in her hand. “I know that the world I brought him into wasn’t…isn’t good. But…I love him.”

Clark knew she didn’t mean Damian. “Y’never fall outta love with him,” he said. “We’ve been apart more years’n we’ve been t’gether and I’ve never stopped lovin’ him. I…I git it.”

Talia nodded. “I know that…that Damian’s better off here,” she said. “I know you and Bruce will take care of him. But it’s…it was hard, Mr. Kent. You can’t possibly imagine…”

“Clark,” he corrected her softly. “And I know what it’s like t’give up yer baby.”

She looked up, surprised. “But…”

“When Dick was a baby,” Clark said. “I…I gave him away. And I didn’t even have the decency t’bring him t’Bruce…I jist left him on a doorstep.” He shook his head. “Yer a better person than I am, Talia.”

“I wish I could believe that,” she said. “But I still let him suffer under my father’s hand for eight years before I had the courage to take him away. And…and if Timothy hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I would have had the strength to give him up again.”

Clark hesitated, then reached out and took her hand. “We’ve both made a lotta mistakes with our kids,” he said. “But we tried t’do right, and…and that’s all we can do, in the end.”

Talia nodded. They sat in silence for a long time, sipping at the tea, before Talia stood. “I have to go back,” she said. “Did Timothy tell you what happened?”

“He said y’helped ‘em escape,” Clark said. “Thanks fer that.”

“Right,” Talia said. “Well…the League of Assassins has split down the middle on it. Most of them are still following my father, but a good portion are loyal to me…and it’s likely we’ll be at war for a long time.”

Clark nodded. “Anythin’ we need t’do?”

“No,” Talia said. “This will be far underneath your usual…patrol, I suppose. We’ll try to keep Ra’s out of your hair for a while…and I promise that none of my people will harm your sons.”

“Thank you,” Clark said. “And I swear t’keep Damian safe from yer father.”

Talia nodded. “Thank you.” She smiled and slipped out the window. Clark watched her go before he turned and went back up the stairs.

He paused once more to look in on the boys before he returned to his room to wait for Bruce. It wasn’t more than an hour before Bruce arrived back, already in his civilian sweats.

“Everything all right?” Bruce asked.

“Tell y’in the mornin’,” Clark said. “But fer now, it is.”

Bruce nodded and slipped into the bed beside him. Clark rolled over and lay on Bruce’s chest, holding his husband close.

“All quiet in Gotham?”

“For now. Nightwing and Flamebird will do an extra fly-over before they go off for the night.”

“Y’see Cass anywhere?”

“Yes…she’ll be coming home soon, she’s looking into something.”

“I think I know what, but it’ll wait.”

“You going to help her with it?”

“No,” Clark said. “No, I…I think I’m better off stayin’ here fer now.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Only time you don’t go on patrol is when…” He trailed off, looking incredulous.

Clark lifted his head. “When I’m pregnant,” he said softly.

There was silence for an entire minute before Clark heard four simultaneous shouts of “SERIOUSLY?!”

“Stop eavesdroppin’ and git back t’work!” Clark called out the window.

He was ignored as Dick, Kara, Tim and Conner all flew through the window, all four with various looks of exasperation.

“How long?!” Dick demanded the moment he was properly in the room.

“Three months,” Clark said. “Since…since Bruce came back.”

“Did you two even wait until you were back in the right year?” Conner asked.

The silence was enough of an answer for Tim and Conner to both make noises of disgust.

“I just got Terry weaned!” Kara said. “And now you’re giving me another one barely two years later?”

“It’s not as bad as it could be,” Clark tried to protest.

“And in our defense, dying and coming back to life is a pretty good incentive for…a thorough debriefing,” Bruce said.

Tim and Conner made more disgusted noises while Dick and Kara just rolled their eyes. “Well…congrats,” Dick said.

“Thank you, Dicky,” Bruce said. “Does anyone else have anything to say?”

There was silence for a moment before Tim raised his hand. “Steph and I are getting married,” he said. “If…if that doesn’t ruin the sudden baby announcement.”

There was another pause before Clark was up and hugging Tim close. “Congratulations, sweetheart,” he said. “When’re y’plannin’ it?”

“In the spring,” Tim said. “We…we don’t want anything big.”

“Dibs on best man,” Conner said.

“Fight me,” Dick challenged.

Tim laughed as Bruce moved to his other side to hug him as well. Before long, Dick and Conner stopped bickering long enough to join them for a moment.

Kara smiled. “Call when you need me again,” she said. “And seriously, you two…calm it down a bit.”

“Warehouses,” Bruce said, somewhat nonsensically, but Kara went red and flew out the window at once.

Clark raised an eyebrow but Bruce shook his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’ll be around,” Conner said. “Um…call if you…”

Clark nodded. “I will.”

Conner nodded and followed Kara out the window.

Dick and Tim headed off to their own rooms, Dick still trying to needle Tim into letting him be best man. Clark smiled and closed the door after them.

“Well,” Bruce said. “I guess everything’s fine after all.”

“Yeah,” Clark said. “Fer the first time…I think ev’rythin’s perfect.”


End file.
